


Blood Brothers

by Reading_By_Torchlight



Series: Found family [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Domestic Violence, Found Family, Friendship, Gen, Running away from home
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-11-01 10:38:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17865680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reading_By_Torchlight/pseuds/Reading_By_Torchlight
Summary: Sirius has just about the worst Christmas ever but luckily there is a Boy who's his brother in all but blood.“Prongs? I…I…know it’s Christmas an’ all, I j-just didn’t know where to go…I…”James held his wand up high to see where the voice had come from. In the pale light, he could make out a tall figure, curled up at the foot of the lithic staircase. The other boy  was shaking uncontrollably and James couldn’t possible tell whether out of pain, cold or shock The boy was bare-footed and his fair skin was merely a nuance darker than the snow he was lying on. Around him, there was a little puddle of reddish liquid, which seemed to course from countless wounds on his head, neck and chest, as well as his right leg, soaking his shirt and his long ebony black curls and turning the snow a dark shade of blood red. When he heard James’s voice, he lifted his head just about an inch off the floor, before he realised, that this movement required too much muscle strength and he let his head fall to the floor again, watching James from underneath his long dark curls out of familiar grey eyes.“I…I thought y-you might like a dog for Christmas…”, he managed to say between two breaths, grimacing with pain.





	Blood Brothers

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone,  
> this is my first Harry Potter fic and I hope you folks like it :)

Christmas Eve 1975

When James woke up, he knew something was wrong. He sat up, still trying to figure out what the nightmare he had been having, had been about, and ran a shaky hand through his wild hair that was sticking up from his head in every single direction possible, untameable as always. His breathing was still shallow and he tried to calm himself by resting his dizzy head on his drawn-up knees. Looking up, the old oak tree’s branches threw grotesque shadows onto his bedroom walls, wildly moving in the wind and barely letting any flashes of moonlight into the dark room. 

 _Inhale…exhale…inhale…exhale…_ , he told himself. It had just been a dream. Disoriented, he threw out one of his stick thin arms to grab something on the bedside table. After having let his hands wander over the wooden surface for a good minute (and accidentally knocking over a pile of heavy books with one of Paddy’s letters on top and his half-emptied tea cup from yesterday evening) he found what he had been looking for. Holding the candle in one hand and his wand in the other, he cast a quick spell and the bedroom was illuminated by the light of the dancing flames. James put on his glasses sleepily (which finally turned his room into more than just a foggy blur of colours - his eyesight was _bloody awful_ ) and made for the door. He wouldn’t be able to sleep properly now anyway – he might as well have some of his Mum’s amazing Christmas biscuits and a nice, hot cuppa.

On his way to the door, he picked up the cup he had pushed from his bedside table and tip-toeing he made his way down the grand staircase, carefully trying not to wake his parents. When he passed the drawing room, he caught a sneak-peek of the Christmas tree, already surrounded by presents. He couldn’t help but smile; although he was fifteen now - only a year and a half till adulthood and a bit more than that till graduation - his parents still tried really hard to keep up the myth of Father Christmas. They just didn’t want their son to grow up. But who would blame them; no parent wanted their child to grow up in that time of war and misery. Looking at the Christmas tree, James felt as if a heavy weight had been placed onto his narrow chest.

 _Where were the boys_? _Where were they?_ He rested his head against the dark wood, the candle he had placed on the floor being the only source of light in the old country mansion’s hallway, and felt his forehead wrinkle with worry and fear for his friends. He was glad to know Peter and Lily were safely at home at their parents’ (especially Lily since her parents lived in Surrey, in the most muggle-ish neighbourhood in the whole of England, which meant the chance of her receiving any unpleasant visits equalled something like 0.00001, even for her as a muggle-born witch). He smiled at the thought of Lily and ran his hand unconsciously through his mop of messy hair. Wasn’t she an angel? He could still see her looking over her shoulder, offering him one of her pure, innocent smiles. Her dark ginger curls had been  covered in tiny snowflakes and her emerald green eyes had shone brightly against the red collar of her Gryffindor robes. They had been standing at King’s Cross station, waiting for their parents to pick them up for Christmas break. There were chattering students everywhere and merely inches away, there were Alice Prewett and Frank Longbottom, propped up against a pillar, snogging goodbye. James let out an awkward cough but Lily didn’t seem to notice. She had already turned to walk towards the entrance where her parents and her rather thin, rather grumpy looking sister were waiting, when she suddenly seemed to remember something. She spun a half-turn on her heels and looked at him with a shy smile. Then, she gulped hard as if she were trying to pull herself together, stormed fast forward, got on her tip-toes and placed a small kiss on his icy cheek. “Happy Christmas, Pot-…James”, she whispered and backed away just as fast as she had run towards him. James couldn’t help but smile as he watched her skip towards her family. “Happy Christmas to you, too, Evans”, he whispered back, although she was already leaving the train station with her family. Lily truly was the purest thing that was left in this shattered world. The on-going war had made them grow up so fast; it had made them grow suspicious and had thrust this great worry upon them. Lily, however, was still as trusting as ever, she still jumped around the common room happily, when Remus put on that Beatles record she loved so much, cheering everyone up with her silly dancing. When Mulciber, that god-awful wanker, had fallen off his broom during the Quidditch match, Lily had been the one to jump to her feet and help him get to the hospital wing, regardless of the fact that rumour had it, he had joined _him-who-must-not-be-named_ ; regardless of him calling her a filthy mudblood and spitting in her face in front of the whole school.

But not even the thought of Lily could stop him from worrying about his other friends and the question popped up in his head again: _Where were the boys? Were the all right?_ A flash of moonlight fell onto the floor and something in James’ chest twitched at the thought of Moony having to spend New Year’s locked up in a tiny cellar, going through more pain than James himself could ever imagine. He didn’t even dare to think about Pads. It had only been a day ago, that James had received Sirius’ last letter. He didn’t write a lot about his family but James couldn’t help but notice that Pad’s aristocratically neat handwriting had been smudged by what seemed like tiny drops of water. Merlin, what would he do to get his best mate away from that horrible place…but he knew why Sirius continued to stay there; he was still hoping to save his little brother even though they all knew that Regulus was already in too deep. Sighing, James picked up the candle and plodded into the kitchen.

The sound of a bell startled him and he let go off the kettle, which fell to the floor with a loud thud, splashing hot water all over the stone-cold kitchen floor. James, who had almost forgotten about his nightmare, felt scared and clung to his candle. He relaxed when he heard eleven more bell sounds and realised that it had just been the clock striking twelve. He let out a nervous chuckle. “Merlin, that’s embarrassing”, he hissed to himself. “Are you a Gryffindor or what?”

With a simple drying spell, he cleaned up the water that had formed a little puddle to his feet and set down at the table with his tea and biscuits. “Happy Christmas”, he muttered to himself and wanted to take a bite of a deliciously looking vanilla-pumpkin bikkie, when he heard it again. The sound his nightmare had been about: A whimpering cry which seemed to be coming from the door. Gulping, he pulled himself together and made for the hallway again. He gripped his wand tightly –just in case- and chewed on his bikkie (If this were to be a death eater troop, attacking pure blood families for being too muggle-friendly, at least he’d die with a full stomach…those biscuits were heavenly! He could picture Moony rolling his eyes fondly: _Merlin, Prongs, concentrate! Could you please not think about food for once in your bloody life…?!_ )

The hallway was silent and James thought he had only been imagining things.  But when he stood right in front of the door, he could hear the muffled sounds again, they sounded weaker now, quieter, almost like somebody sobbing. Somehow, they were oddly familiar to his ears and James came to the conclusion that a death eater wouldn’t be crying silently in front of the Potters’ door. With that in mind, he pulled the door open and looked straight into the dark but there was nothing to see. It was freezing outside and he pulled his pyjama shirt closer around his middle. He took a look around, before taking a step back, acknowledging he was really tired and seemed to hear things where there was nothing but silence.

But then he heard a muffled voice. A voice he’d recognise everywhere. Usually deep and made raspy by one to many cigarettes but now quietly choking back tears, he heard the voice of the one person he was constantly worrying about.

“Prongs? I…I…know it’s Christmas an’ all, I j-just didn’t know where to go…I…”

“ _Lumos”_ , James breathed into the dead of the night and held his wand up high to see where the voice had come from. In the pale light, he could make out a tall figure, curled up at the foot of the lithic staircase. The figure, a young bloke of about sixteen years of age, was only wearing a torn white shirt and ripped suit trousers. He was shaking uncontrollably and James couldn’t possible tell whether out of pain, cold or shock The boy was bare-footed and his fair skin was merely a nuance darker than the snow he was lying on. Around him, there was a little puddle of reddish liquid, which seemed to course from countless wounds on his head, neck and chest, as well as his right leg, soaking his shirt and his long ebony black curls and turning the snow a dark shade of blood red. When he heard James’s voice, he lifted his head just about an inch off the floor, before he realised, that this movement required too much muscle strength and he let his head fall to the floor again, watching James from underneath his long dark curls out of familiar grey eyes.

“I…I thought y-you might like a dog for Christmas…”, he managed to say between two breaths, grimacing with pain.

“Merlin, Pad, what…?!”, James said, ignoring Sirius’ typical attempt to make lame jokes in the face of serious situations. He had finally managed to get himself to move and kneelt down beside his friend. He desperately wanted to know what had happened to Sirius and then he himself would make sure that person got to St. Mungo’s! He crouched on the floor next to Sirius who had meanwhile closed his eyes.  took Sirius’ head into his hands, getting his own hands red because of all the dark clumps of blood that had matted Sirius’ curls and James wondered just how long his best friend had been lying there. He shook Sirius’s head a little, starting to worry that the other boy might have lost conscience.

“Sirius? Sirius?! You’re not gonna bloody fall asleep! I’ll make sure of that! If you’re fainting now, I’ll never let you forget that! You’ve not come all the way from London just to faint in front of my doorsteps…right?”

When Sirius didn’t answer, James didn’t hesitate and without further ado, he threw his best mate over his shoulder and stumbled under Sirius’ weight all the way to the door, this time without trying not to wake his parents. As he made his way through the hallway and into the drawing room they left a trail of blood behind them, constantly trickling from Sirius back and head.

He let the older boy fall onto the sofa next to the Christmas tree and had a look at the other Marauder’s wounds and bruises. After having examined the injuries, he concluded there were a lot of severe bleedings but luckily only two fractures, for one the right ankle that looked terribly painful, sticking out at a rather unnatural angle. This would be fairly easy to fix, the three of them, Sirius, Peter and he, had fixed enough broken ankles and wrists the mornings after full moons, to say, they were pretty advanced in healing magic. The broken rib, however, he had felt earlier when he had tried to remove the ripped cloth that was Sirius’ once snow white button-down shirt, looked like it would turn out to be a challenge.

“You stay where you are, Pads”, muttered James, more to block out the ear-shattering silence that had befallen his surroundings since Sirius had fallen unconscious.

James ran into the kitchen to get a bowl of warm water, a first-aid kit and a set of healing potions and hurried back as soon as he could, splashing half of the water onto the parquet floor.

Using one of the potions to keep Sirius asleep for a while, he started tending to the other boy’s wounds carefully, trying to gather all the information he had absorbed in all those years they had been taking care of Remus. However, never before had he seen injuries like that and he started to worry that there had been dark curses involved.

When he had cleaned and closed the wounds as good as he could and tried to stabilise Sirius’ leg, there was nothing left to do and after almost three hours of distracting himself with medical caring, he realised that –for as much as he begged it wasn’t- the image he saw before his eyes, was real. He had tried to wash most of the dirt and blood clumps out of Sirius curls and had brushed it (he hoped Sirius would never find out he had had to cut a good chunk from behind his ear as it was simply too matted. James prayed to Merlin, Morgana and all the wizards and witches of the Old Religion that Sirius wouldn’t get mad, like he always did, when someone tried to get near his beloved mane with a pair of scissors.) After that, he had lit new flames in the fireplace and spread a blanket over Sirius’ sleeping form. Now that there was no task he could occupy himself with, he sat down on the chair besides Sirius, propped his elbows onto the sofa next to his sleeping friend, resting his weary head in his palms, watching the other boy and begging for him to wake up.

 _Merlin, Sirius. What have you gotten yourself into this time?_ , he asked silently. Feeling some tears roll down his cheeks. The sight of his best friend looking as miserable as he did was proper scary and he would have done anything to be in his place now and he felt a lump rise in his throat. Never in his life would he get used to seeing one of the Marauders in pain and he realised just how lucky he was to have them. James would have happily given his life for any of the other three boys, knowing they’d do the same.

As much as it pained him to see Sirius like that, he was still glad to see him. He felt honoured to be the person Sirius trusted enough to let him help him in a situation like that and he realised Sirius would never turn his back on him.

The last time he checked on Sirius, the clock had struck four and sometime later he felt exhausted of worrying and he felt himself fall back into his chair.

When he woke up, the first rays of sunlight had already made their way through the huge drawing room window. James opened his eyes halfway and saw something shift in the corner of his eye. It was Sirius. He had obviously woken up and was now staring motionlessly at the ceiling above. A single tear drop made its way along alabaster skin. Angrily, Sirius lifted a hand and wiped it away. For a moment he scrunched up his high, aristocratic nose in an attempt to hold back further tears which his mother would undoubtedly have seen as a sign of weakness. Then, he stared back up again.

“Prongs, I don’t want to go back”, he said with an emotionless voice, no expression on his face.

James sat up straight, eyeing Sirius, unsure how exactly he should react.

“What d’ya think, idiot? I’m not _ever_ letting you go back”, he said finally and leaning forward, giving Sirius a level look, he quietly asked: “Pad, what happened?”

Sirius still wouldn’t look at his best friend and after some time had passed, James thought that Sirius just didn’t want to talk about it but then all of a sudden Sirius’ started talking.

“I just…I wanted him to be my little brother again, Prongs. Is that really so wrong?” Sirius said. “He’s one of _them_ now. We were getting dressed for Christmas Eve’s dinner when I saw it…his arm, James…his arm! I-I went to ask mother what she’d made him do but she said Reg were none of my business. She called me a filthy blood-traitor, said someone like me shouldn’t be allowed to be a pure blood. I told her that none of her racist shit mattered to me, told her I wanted her to leave Reg alone but she wouldn’t listen. James, she said Reg had joined them _voluntarily_.”

James grew paler and paler. Right now, he wasn’t even sure he wanted to hear the rest of the story anymore. He felt sick, as though someone had punched him in the stomach.

“I told her that couldn’t possibly be true, that Reg would never do something like that”, Sirius continued, still no sign of emotion in his grey eyes. “I screamed at her, telling her she didn’t deserve to be called a mother, not after what she’d done to Reg. That was when she completely lost it”

Sirius’ voice had grown more and more silent until it was nothing but a whisper.

“At first she only hit me but that wouldn’t do it now that I’m a foot taller than her, would it? Of course I could’ve run but there was no way I’d have left without Reg and as if I’d be such a coward as to run from my own mother. She drew her wand, pointed it at my chest and before I knew it, I was thrown against the bookshelf. I don’t remember much of it but after she had been done with me and had left the room, I was just lying on the floor, unable to move, unable to think. The only thing I _could_ do was replay that scene in my head over and over again: my own mother calling me a disgrace to the name of Black, I saw her pointing her wand at me and heard her high-pitched voice scream ‘Crucio! Crucio!’…and it wouldn’t stop, James…i-it just wouldn’t stop…When I was finally able to move my feet again I crept out the servant’s entrance. It was so _bloody_ exhausting! I-I was bleeding everywhere, my head spun and there were three floors I had to crawl down on all fours. When…when I passed the dining hall, they were all having holiday dinner. Cousin Bellatrix, cousin Narcissa and their parents were there just like every year and they and Reg talked loudly over their glasses of giggle water whilst mother had a laugh with aunt and uncle just as if nothing had happened. Outside, I tried to apparate. I’d never done this before and I guess it was kinda illegal seeing as I don’t have my licence yet but I just…I just wanted to bloody leave. I didn’t know where to go and I’m sorry because it’s Christmas an’ all and…and you s-should be enjoying your holidays…”

Abruptly, Sirius sat up on the sofa, forgetting about his broken ribs and wincing as a flash of pain shot through him, breaking down and starting to cry.

James sat there, completely aghast at what he had just heard. He couldn’t believe it, he didn’t want it to be true. If he had felt sick a few minutes ago, it was nothing compared to now. Never before had he seen the image that presented was presented to him in his parents’ drawing room. Sirius was the seemingly toughest person he knew, up until that Christmas morning he could never have imagined seeing him crying. He sat on his chair in shock - watching Sirius, watching the first rays of sunshine of the day dance along the walls – and didn’t know what to do, when suddenly he was being pulled forward and felt a scruffy chin being pressed against his neck, he could feel his _Chudley Cannons_ pyjama shirt getting soaked with tears. When he patted Sirius’ back gingerly, careful not to touch any of his freshly closed wounds, he could feel the other boy’s shoulders tremble. After Sirius had calmed down a little, he gulped.

“Please don’t make me go back, Prongs”, he said quietly over James’ shoulder.

“As if I’m letting you get back there…you’re staying here, mate”, answered James against a bush of black curls.

Sirius let go, rubbing his eyes and flashing a tired half-smile.

“Prongs, if you tell a soul I cried…”, Sirius said, trying his hardest to sound threatening before getting distracted and wrinkling his forehead in discomfort. “Merlin, I could really do with a cigarette right now”

James chuckled, glad to see Sirius being Sirius again – annoying, incorrigible, insufferable Sirius who would leave his socks all over the dormitory room, who’d scare everyone to death by playing his favourite _Weird Sisters_ record at full volume at 3 o’clock on a weekday morning, who had an undying love for some Muggle book series called _Lord of the Rings-_ from which he’d constantly recite whole passages until James, Remus and Peter could have repeated all of the books themselves- who was rubbish at Quidditch and couldn’t for the love of Merlin tell a quaffle from a bludger.

Merlin, was he blessed to have a best friend like that!

“Imma get some brekkie, all right? It’s Christmas morning after all”, said James, getting up from the chair and ruffling his hair.

“Ohhh, yes please! I’d really fancy some bacon right now. Loads of bacon…I’m starving!” said Sirius, gesturing wildly and melodramatically as usual.

James turned to leave for the kitchen before remembering something. He turned towards the ancient wooden cabinet next to the door, searched the drawers and threw Sirius a little package.

“Here you go, junkie”, James said smilingly after Sirius had caught the pack of cigarettes. “I’ll be back with bacon”

He opened the door, when he heard Sirius voice one again.

“Thank you, Prongs”, Sirius said with more genuine honesty and gratitude than James had ever heard from the older boy. “And you know I’m not talking about the smokes”

Sirius smiled exhaustedly but thankfully.

“Any time, Paddy. Don’t mention it”, James answered and smiled back.

When James left the room, he grinned in the knowledge that Sirius was safe in the drawing room where the only danger could possibly be that he set his hair on fire with his cigarette (which, knowing Sirius, didn’t seem too far off).

Maybe, after they’d had brekkie and talked to his parents, they could use the Floo Network to wish Wormy Merry Christmas and check on Moony.

Also, Sirius would _definitely_ have to help him write a response to Lily’s Christmas card.

The clock struck eight and he could hear his Mum and Dad walking down the stairs.

As James used a quick temperature spell to heat up the frying pan, he thought that maybe not everything was perfect. But then again, what was since Voldemort had started to gain power. However, he was pretty sure that not having to worry about Sirius for the moment, knowing that Lily sort of seemed to genuinely like him and having the best friends he could ever imagine came bloody close to the definition of perfect.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, everyone. I'd really appreciate it if you'd leave me a comment. They're the best present you can give a fic writer. :)


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